


mirror, mirror

by Caracalliope



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Begging, Eye Trauma, Gen, Interrogation, Sharing a Room, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13975485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caracalliope/pseuds/Caracalliope
Summary: Ignis and Ravus are captured together and then placed under interrogation.





	mirror, mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [egelantier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/egelantier/gifts).



They get shackled to opposite walls and then left to wait. Ignis forces himself to breathe evenly. There is a deep scratch near the crook of elbow and he is sure that his interrogators will utilize it accordingly. Other than that, though, Ignis is in top shape. He still has a strong grasp on the passage of time, but he knows that will slip away soon enough. Common sense is going to slip away first. He has to act before that happens.

“Are you hurt?” he asks Ravus. He thinks he spotted a limp, but having more information would be tactically advantageous.

“Practice your silence, boy. You will need it later.” Ignis takes that as a yes.

“Oh, I intend to practice it.” Ignis stretches his neck, carefully. A heavy strain has settled into his shoulders already. “When the interrogation begins, so will my silence.”

“Apart from the screaming,” Ravus offers.

“Indeed.”

“And we should stay silent between interrogations as well.” Like Ignis, Ravus is taking his time, measuring every word. “We are are likely being monitored, and a single clever quip could be enough to help these bastards get what they want.”

“Agreed,” Ignis says. “But a mediocre quip is more likely and equally damaging.”

Ravus snorts gently. In the quiet of their cell, Ignis can hear the gentle creaking of the prosthetic. Ravus must have fallen on it.

“No conversation,” Ravus says. “From now on, until we are released.”

Into freedom or death, it doesn’t matter. Neither of them is going to surrender.

* * *

“Where is the Oracle? Where is the King?”

Ravus lost his proud posture hours ago. He’s only being held up by the chain around his right wrist. Their captors disassembled his left arm immediately. It makes sense, Ignis supposes. Ravus is more helpless like this. If it were up to Ignis, he would have left that for later though.

One of the guards takes the silver-purple gauntlet and slips it on. Ignis cannot help the reflexive disgust. That prosthetic was such a beautiful tool. Now it is entertainment for some lapdog of Ardyn’s less-useful follower.

The gauntlet smashes into Ravus’s midriff. Why are they beginning with blunt force? Wouldn’t blades be more effective? They need Ravus alive, and Ignis as well. Are they in a hurry? Is there some indication that a rescue team might be on its way?

The gauntlet lands on Ravus’s collarbone, elicits a choked-off yell. A part of Ignis wants to interrupt, to draw attention to himself. He is still unharmed and he can take quite a lot of pain, when necessary.

He stays silent. That was their agreement.

One of the captors kicks Ravus in what must be his injured leg. Ignis stays very still when Ravus collapses, full weight resting on his remaining arm.

“Let’s take a stab at the other one,” says one of the guards.

“Nah, that’s just a servant. He doesn’t know anything.”

Oh-ho, manipulation, and a piss-poor attempt at that. Noct at age 12 had better ploys than that one.

Ignis stays silent as they discuss him as though he isn’t present. He watches them wrap Ravus’s ribs up. Does he detect a hint of worry in the guard tending to Ravus’s wounds? They _do_ have to keep them both alive. So incompetent and fractured.

It is no surprise at all when the man with the gauntlet approaches him. Ignis allows himself a small smile before the breath is knocked out of him.

“Where is the King? Where is the Oracle?”

* * *

Ignis is aware that he is well beyond common sense at this point. He has lost blood, lost teeth. He is hoarse and dehydrated. Logical reasoning is beyond him, but. There is something he cannot quite figure out.

Noct is the one their captors want dead. Lunafreya could simply return to captivity and get left to wither away at her own pace. So why wouldn’t Ravus cut a deal?

Thoughts like this one are dangerous. They can slip out, no matter how much he tries keeping his mouth shut. (It doesn’t stay shut for long. He cannot help the screaming, nor the tears. But he keeps himself from using profanities, or any words at all. Shapeless sounds are safe.)

He makes a soft, interrogative noise and Ravus looks up to him. His regal steadiness is gone and there is blood in his hair and his beard. He has slumped, though he doesn’t yet seem pliant.

Ignis can’t ask his question. But he can study that face and make certain analyses.

Item one: none of this silence and this courage are for Noct’s sake. Ravus has said before than he owes no loyalty to Noct, and Ignis doesn’t see any reason why that should change.

Item two: Ravus fears giving out _any_ information. He fears it more than Ignis does. Hypothesis: he has slipped up before? No, that’s unsubstantiated.

Item three: the torturers seem to be harder on Ravus than they are on Ignis. Is it because they see a weakness in him? Or are they settling old scores, like wasps attacking a wounded lion? Hypothesis: they simply don’t think Ravus knows where Noct is. Lunafreya might be precious leverage, but Noct is the one they want. Ergo, Ignis is the one they really need to keep alive.

Item four: it feels easy to admire Ravus’s silence under these circumstances. Ignis was raised to die for his friend. It is not particularly noteworthy that he is doing so now. Ravus’s dedication seems to be more deliberate choice than reflex. He’s seen the man troubled by his choices before. That he is so stalwart now is worthy of praise.

… or worthy of help. Ignis isn’t thinking clearly. Yet, his idea feels like a good one, and second-guessing oneself in this position seems like a waste of breath and thought.

* * *

“Where is the Oracle? Where is the King?”

The guards have lit a little fire in the middle of the chamber. Finally, Ignis has the opportunity he has been waiting for.

As the hot poker comes near Ravus’s thighs, Ignis lets out a sob. It isn’t too difficult to summon one. His throat is so dry, after all, and his chest is tired of the strain.

“P-please,” he whines, a ridiculous extended howl. “Please let us go, we don’t know anything.”

He hopes that Ravus has his wits together enough to recognize the ploy. He can’t risk looking him in the face right.

“King Noctis never told me where he was going,” he says. He thought it all out in advance, every single thing he was going to say. This was a risk, but he thinks Noct will forgive it, if he ever hears of it. Ignis hopes he won't. “Please just stop asking.”

He has their attention at last. Ravus is forgotten. Ignis has got things under control. When the hot poker connects with his shoulder, he almost feels victorious.

* * *

Ignis has told them nothing, but he apologized and begged enough to keep their interest. Ravus looks at him blankly. Ignis’s vision is too blurred to make out what Ravus is thinking. When they are alone, they still don’t speak at all.

He _doesn’t_ know where Noct is, at this particular time. Everything he knows is quarantined away, just as the pain is. There are broken bones now, in his left hand where the gauntlet gripped it. They ripped off a piece of his ear, indelicate and excited that they have a lead. They haven’t touched Ravus since Ignis showed weakness.

The new interrogator is no smarter than the others, but she’s more precise. Finally, Ignis thinks, somebody here knows what she is doing. He grins at it, then keeps grinning. Appearing fully rational isn’t currently among his concerns.

She bows to him, a mocking gesture that is more awkward than anything else. The hot poker is steady in her hands. Ignis can divine her intention. He closes his eyes and tries pulling away, so futile and awkward too. He continues begging, without thought, as the poker inexorably approaches his eyes.

“Where is the King? Where is the Oracle?”

* * *

Ignis has told him nothing. He has said nothing but “please” for a while now. He cannot see anything, doesn’t know if Ravus is still there. There has been no yelling, other than his own. Is that good, or is it a sign that Ignis has failed? It would be a shame to fail at his secondary goal. Lady Lunafreya would be so sad.

He has been losing moments, or more than moments. The interrogators have changed again, but he has no opinion on the new crop.

Still, he hopes that Ravus will survive this, and tell Noct about it. Everyone will cry and the whole thing will be quite embarrassing. It is simple enough to imagine it when there is nothing else to occupy his mind.

* * *

“Noct’s here! He’s going to -”

Ravus is alive! But he is breaking their pact. Ignis would tell him so, but all that comes out is a 'please'.

“Maker fuck you, Ignis, if you die _now_ ,” and again, Ignis cannot follow the thought, pleasant though it is.

It was an honor, Ignis thinks, lazy in his comfortable darkness. Nobody else has ever come close to keeping up with him. And it is ridiculous, and perverted, to be happy he wasn't alone. But Ignis has kept his silence. He can have some indulgences.

The daydream he sinks into is especially pleasant, and he can almost feel a tender touch on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> ♥!


End file.
